


thought and time and rhyme

by yamasou



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, why is Miyu-Miyu not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamasou/pseuds/yamasou
Summary: You're not supposed to confess that you love someone on your first date.





	thought and time and rhyme

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to get this out of my system! Midorima and Akashi are super cute together and I want nothing but nice things for them. ;_; I was also obviously listening to Fly Me to the Moon while writing most of the fic. The ending is just a bit open-ended because I suck at endings, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. c:

At Seijuro's fingertips were piano keys. Growing up, he learned how to play the piano. His father wanted him to be blessed in the arts as well as letters, and he was. Music theory was a subject he was proficient in, and along with being talented in playing the piano, he was also skilled in playing the violin. In a way, whenever he was making music, he found that he could properly express what he wanted to say. People normally didn't understand him, but maybe one day, he will find someone who does.

It wasn't the first time he saw from across the room a group of men sharing food and drink with one another. Of course, in the hotel's lounge where he played, he was always able to oversee various kinds of people from children to teenagers to adults with all kinds of professions. This particular group of five, though, was a group that he had been keen on for some time now. When no music played, he could hear a dark haired man's jovial and energetic laughter. Three of them—Seijuro has an eye for detail—seem ordinary to him. The fifth man, however, quite possibly the strangest man in the group with his trinkets that seem to change daily (they come by everyday) is the most interesting one of all. While they drink, this man listens. He does not watch; his eyes are focused on his peers and the food and drink, but Seijuro is able to tell that his ears are open and are absorbing every note, every chord, every harmony.

About a week or so into his observations, he decides to test something.

The lounge is not empty, but there are few people—perhaps about three tables merely filled, including the group of five that Seijuro's been keeping an eye on. He plays his usual pieces, which of course, those who merely eat will not realise that it's the same pieces over and over, but Seijuro knows that this man with the green hair knows and has likely realised that every time he hears it being performed, there is no change. The pieces have been perfected. As for the test? Seijuro decides to put his own spin on a particular set of measures into a certain piece. When all is said and done, that is to say, when the group is about to leave, the man makes eye contact with Seijuro. Brows furrowed with creases in his forehead, green eyes behind a layer of glass meet the hue of Seijuro's scarlet. At this same time, Seijuro gets up from his seat, setlist done.

"Shin-chan—" It's the raven haired man who speaks, calling out to the man in glasses holding what looks like a plush toy of a crab in his left hand. The four are already by the lounge's exit, where the lounge and the hotel lobby meet.

Shin-chan… Seijuro hears it and commits it to memory. That's definitely not his name. It's far too cute a nickname for someone like him. Shin-chan even seems embarrassed to be called by that name in public, quickly saying "Don't call me that, Takao."

But as Shin-chan sees red in his peripheral vision slowly moving towards him, he tells Takao and his other peers to go ahead. He may not know what a pianist would want to do with him, but he'll at least say what he has on his mind.

"You made a mistake," he says the moment the pianist stops just a couple of feet away from him. Shin-chan doesn't size this man up, despite how broody and intimidating he looks with his unrelenting gaze and his towering figure. He could also easily observe the pianist now, too. It's not his intention at all to notice, but the pianist's cheekbones are rather defined. His eyes, red like wine, are so easy to get lost in. These aren't features that are easy to notice when it comes to a pianist. After all, shouldn't the focus be the hands?

Seijuro, now standing before Shin-chan smiles. A small and courteous smile is what is given, but Shin-chan sees it as something more, and for a moment, he feels as if a wash of calm and relaxation just hit him. The smile, though, is Seijuro's way of saying he's not one to make mistakes. Small mistakes, especially. "No, I didn't," is his response, tilting his head up slightly to show his confidence that not once has wavered. "It got your attention."

The only response Seijuro gets is Shin-chan swallowing thickly and looking away. The crab plush gets held a bit tighter as his breath hitches ever so slightly. It's so easy to miss the change in his actions, but Seijuro's eye is quick and more than experienced in noticing minute movements of people. It's a talent, he would say. Not the most useful of talents, but for a person who can be just about anyone or anything, he can use it to his advantage.

"My name is Seijuro." He even tucks his pieces to his right side so he can extend his left hand. It gets another strained response from Shin-chan, but he extends his left hand (after switching the crab to his right) nonetheless, taking Seijuro's for a quick but firm handshake.

Despite taped fingers, Shin-chan (or in this case, Shintaro Midorima, as he introduces himself), Midorima is able to feel some warmth from the contact, as if a fire has been lit within him, just like Seijuro's hair which burns of a bright colour that he can't seem to look away from. Just from a handshake, he feels drawn to this man. Or perhaps he's already been drawn to him before with his the calming melodies at his fingertips. The handshake just seals the deal. Little does he know that Seijuro's had his eye on him ever since he started playing at the lounge.

"Leaving?" Seijuro asks the obvious to test the waters. Is this Midorima guy receptive to this type of conversation or not? He knows he's about to leave. He always only has a glass of wine while his friends have cocktails and other drinks until they're laughing merrily and temporarily forgetting their problems. Midorima drinks to socialise, and even then, he doesn't say much.

"It's late and I have an early operation tomorrow."

So he's a doctor. It's another piece of information Seijuro commits to his memory. He dares not ask at which hospital he works in, but he already knows from how that one time he wore his coat with a particular emblem on its breast pocket: a lion. It merely confirms what he already knows, and the satisfaction of being right has never pleased him so.

Seijuro nods and begins to walk toward the exit. Midorima's stride is much longer than his, but Seijuro is the one who walks ahead while Midorima follows. Midorima can't help but follow, drawn to this man like a moth to a flame.

"In the case that you finish early tomorrow," Seijuro says the door slides open for them both. Midorima notices for the first time that the people bow as they leave. He doesn't even remember if they've done that before. All he can hear are Seijuro's voice, just as melodious as the piano pieces he's played. "Let's have lunch."

And before Midorima can speak, he finds a piece of paper the size of a calling card in his palm. The handwriting on it is absolutely beautiful. The hand that wrote the words to a venue and a time must be so delicate, and for a brief moment, Midorima wonders what it might be like to hold that hand. And as he looks up to call for Seijuro, the denial and embarrassment in him finally surfacing and wanting to say that the pianist is being too presumptuous that he's interested, the man is gone. Midorima goes home alone.

The following day, the two of them end up meeting. The restaurant Seijuro's picked is nothing but lavish, even more than the lounge he plays in. Midorima wonders if a pianist gets paid a lot; he had once considered to enter the music world growing up, but he was more interested in sciences and health.  Seijuro seems to be well-off: his clothes were not the type you usually see in stores—they were the perfect fit on him; he spoke with a certain aura about him like he was a noble—no, a prince; he ate with grace and poise that Midorima's never seen in a person before, or perhaps he hangs out with his college friend Takao too much who's more vigorous than collected and calm. Seijuro asks what Midorima is looking at when he notices verdant eyes observing him. Midorima looks away and instead concentrates on his roast beef, pouring a bit more gravy on it than he intends.

All in all, the lunch was a fruitful one. Seijuro enjoyed it, the smile on his face never wavering and the usual grumpy and cold Midorima's lips actually quick upwards just from how the two of them seem to fit together. Even when they don't speak, it doesn't seem awkward. More lunches happen between the two of them, switching from one restaurant to another, but the overall taste of each establishment never becomes any less classy. Midorima did not consider them dates, as enjoyable as they were. He did not want to assume, but he was also too embarrassed to question it. He merely went along with Seijuro's word, fully trusting him despite only having known each other for a few weeks. It actually feels longer. Seijuro considers them dates, and it is easy to tell he has grown attached to Midorima by the way his eyes shine whenever the green haired man is around him.

"Will you be coming with your colleagues to the lounge later tonight?" Seijuro asks Midorima one as he offers the doctor a cup of coffee. They're outside the hospital Midorima works at, and Midorima only has about twenty minutes to spare until he has to go in for another operation. Still, Seijuro was persistent in saying he would like to see him. Midorima couldn't say no.

He is led to the streets where an electronics store is. The television sets play _Late Chrysanthemums,_ and Midorima watches with little attention as they pass by, more focused on Seijuro whom he considers is even more beautiful than any flower. Coincidentally, or perhaps it is by fate, it happens to be Midorima's favourite film. He checks his watch once they pass. He only has seventeen minutes left before he has to get back.

"Yes," Midorima finally responds, following Seijuro as they pass the store and turn to another street. "We go there every day. Miyaji saw Miyu sing there once. He hopes to see her again."

Seijuro responds with a hum of acknowledgement. Midorima isn't fooled. That hum could be just about anything. Seijuro was crafty, after all. Even though they haven't known each other that long, he can tell that there's more to Seijuro than meets the eye. It's not just his physical appearance that Midorima appreciates. Every time they meet and Seijuro gives a piece of himself to Midorima, he feels more enraptured and consumed by him. It's not love—he wouldn't consider it such when he can't even admit to anybody and even himself that they go on dates. Maybe one day, he'll actually be honest with his feelings. For now, he is content.

The more they walk, the more Midorima wonders where they're headed. His wrist is then tugged by Seijuro into a shop. It's an antique shop where a standing piano is at the centre of it all. Seijuro takes a seat, placing his own cup of coffee by the counter. The owner doesn't seem to mind Seijuro's presence. In fact, he seems familiar with him.

It's entrancing whenever Seijuro is before a piano. He plays a familiar tune, the one that he intentionally made a mistake with with an unfamiliar embellishment. The one that started it all in the first place. This time, it's perfect and beautiful, a reminder to Midorima that he is capable of just about anything. When they leave, Midorima checks his watch. He only has eleven minutes left.

This time, as they walk aimlessly (Midorima thinks so, anyway), he speaks. "I haven't played the piano in some time. I'd like to try it again because of you." In a way, this happens to be a compliment. Seijuro's inspired him to do something, and in a way, it's his way of letting Seijuro into his world even more.

"You can visit me in my home, if you'd like. We can practice a duet," Seijuro responds, looking up at Midorima with a gaze that's asking for—no, expecting—approval. Before Midorima can respond, they find themselves at the park where a couple of men who seem to be their age are playing street basketball. Seijuro asks if they can play them just for a minute or two, and they comply.

The two of them had discussed in one of their lunches that Midorima played basketball in middle school and high school. He stopped to pursue medicine in university, but he didn't stop taking care of his health and made sure he was still athletically inclined. It's why he sticks close to Takao and Miyaji and the others. They were his teammates in high school, and every so often, when schedule permits, they play together.

Seijuro tells Midorima that he knows a little basketball. Midorima is swept off his feet when Seijuro displays his prowess, making the strangers literally kneel before him before he shoots and scores.

Sweat is broken and Seijuro picks up his cup of coffee after they've reached eleven points. It was a raise to ten and yet again, Seijuro exceeds expectations. Midorima doesn't seem like he exerted any effort at all despite the three three-point shots he pulled. When they're away from the park and back on the streets, he checks his watch. He only has three minutes left.

Just outside the hospital is a flower shop. Many buy presents for their loved ones or those who have lost theirs. Seijuro buys a sunflower for Midorima, presenting it with a rather eager smile.

"Thank you for indulging me on this date," he says.

Midorima's not quite sure how to respond. He has about two minutes left and time has never moved so quickly.

"That wasn't a date."

Seijuro lifts a brow, a coy expression on his face. "We watched had coffee, watched a movie, listened to some music, and engaged in an activity together. That wasn't a date?"

… he has a point, and Midorima is rendered speechless. This guy truly is crafty, he tells himself. Was all of this planned? No, that was too much, wasn't it? Midorima just doesn't know that it's these kinds of strings that Seijuro can pull for those important to him. His only response is looking away from Seijuro, his cheeks a touch of pink.

Seijuro feels victorious again. He realises that it's time to go, though. Midorima's operation is starting any time soon, and he wouldn't want him to be late for something so important.

"If this is a date," Midorima begins just as Seijuro is about to turn away to leave. "Then you won't be against a kiss."

The coffee and Midorima's lips against his, Seijuro's heart palpitates. His wrist is held by the taller man before him, Midorima not letting him go without that kiss that he mentioned. It ends quickly though, before Seijuro can close his eyes. He tastes like coffee, Seijuro finds, and he quite likes it. A lot better than the wine that's served at the lounge. It's Midorima's lips that make the kiss taste good though, and he decides that he wants more of it eventually.

Midorima says nothing when he breaks the kiss and lets go of Seijuro. Instead, he nods and quickly walks to one of the hallways so he can get lost in the crowd of nurses, doctors, and visitors. He becomes three minutes late to his operation.

That evening at the hotel, Seijuro is nowhere to be seen. It is a lady named Miyu who performs, and Midorima's table has never been more lively. Miyaji is ecstatic and so are Otsubo and Kimura. Takao doesn't enjoy this type of music in particular, but he likes it more because it's noisier than Seijuro's piano music. Midorima, on the other hand, feels a bit antsy. Something in his daily routine has gone wrong, and he wonders if he should text Seijuro, but he also doesn't want to seem weak. Weak, clingy, needy. He's not any of those, or so his pride dictates. He couldn't stop thinking about Seijuro's lips though and how it tasted against his when they kissed earlier that afternoon. He wants more of it. Just seeing Seijuro wouldn't be enough.

And it was as if he knew. It was as if Seijuro knew what Midorima was thinking, because he enters the lounge in his usual tailored and properly pressed suit. He's not dressed to play, entering as a guest and is with nobody else. Midorima almost spits his drink when he sees Seijuro sit by the bar to watch Miyu. He can't get up and sit by him. Takao would know and that would attract unwanted attention when all he wants right now is to monopolise Seijuro's time. Nobody else should be around.

Seijuro orders nothing. He's merely putting himself on display for Midorima. Once he feels like he's gotten enough attention, he gets up from his seat. Red eyes meet green, and for those couple of seconds that their eyes are locked, inaudible words are exchanged. _Come._

Midorima excuses himself away from his friends, saying he has to call someone at work, but the reality is that he follows Seijuro inconspicuously out the lounge and into the elevators. He's yet to realise it, but at this rate, Midorima will follow him anywhere.

"Why are we here?" He asks. He understands Seijuro wanted privacy, but an elevator is not where they should be speaking.

Seijuro can see how reluctant Midorima is being, so he speaks to ease the other man. "To my room. I suppose I haven't mentioned where I'm staying.  It's here at this hotel."

The elevator doors open before Midorima can say a word. By the time he opens his mouth, Seijuro is already on his way towards one of the rooms, flashing a golden keycard with a lion emblem by the door before turning the knob and entering.

"Seijuro—" For the many days they've met and had lunch dates together, not once has Midorima uttered his name. Now though, it feels as if Midorima was right in not saying it. There is something to it - some sort of elegance to the name that only certain tongues have the right to speak. "That's your given name, not your last name, isn't it?"

"That's right." Seijuro gestures to the grand piano in the middle of the room. The room is nothing like a hotel room but more like a condo. The ceiling is high and there's a chandelier at the centre. There's a small staircase that leads to an open area second storey where presumably, Seijuro sleeps. There are lounge chairs, a small bar, and what even seems to be a small library on the first storey. The windows are as high as the ceiling, and one can witness a spectacular view of the Tokyo skyline from it. "My full name is Seijuro Akashi."

And perhaps there's a reason he introduced himself by his given name. The day finally catches up to Midorima and everything begins to make sense. That twenty minute date was a weird one but it was a sweet gesture on Seijuro's end that he wanted to fit so many activities in such a short span of time just to be with Midorima. That electronics store, the antique shop, this hotel… all are owned and run by the Akashi Corporation. The day Midorima tells Seijuro about Miyaji and Miyu, she performs on stage. All of this couldn't have been coincidence.

He can't help but push his glasses up slightly before he looks at Seijuro. It doesn't feel like today or their past dates have been lies, but it still feels weird to be alone with one of the richest and most eligible bachelors in the country.

"No wonder the staff bow when you pass them by," is all Midorima says about it, deciding not to put any highlight to what he's just discovered. He still feels a little dumb for not noticing it right away, though. After all, who would think that a hotel's owner would be hiding in the crowd as a lounge pianist?

"Come and play with me, Shintaro," Seijuro says as he pats the piano seat. When Midorima freezes, he tilts his head to the side, curious. "What's wrong?"

The fact that he was called by his first name, that's what's wrong. Nobody calls him that but his family. Somehow, though, it sounds like music to his ears when it drips from Seijuro's lips. "Nothing. You called me by my given name."

"So did you."

Seijuro has a point—no!   _Shintaro_ stays tense, the urge to argue right _there_ , but he decides it's not worth it. He has no right to argue with Seijuro over something like this when he didn't even ask in the first place.

"You wanted to play a duet," Shintaro says instead, finally taking a seat by the piano. Seijuro moves down the hallway and grabs a something. From the shadows, Shintaro is unable to make what it is, but when Seijuro is closer, he realises it's a bow and a violin. It's another new piece of information about Seijuro that Shintaro learns today, and instead of bringing focus to it, he pretends as if he's already known that Seijuro also plays the violin.

Seijuro sits next to Shintaro and tunes his violin, running his bow and plucking at the strings. Then, he gives his nod of approval to Shintaro. He's free to play whatever he likes and Seijuro will follow. And so, Shintaro begins with his opening chord and an opening melody that's unfamiliar to Seijuro, but as a few more bars pass, he recognises the tune and joins in playing. Quietly, Seijuro hopes that Shintaro is someone who will understand what his music truly means and what he says with each played and unplayed note.

It's a short piece that they play, about three minutes and a half in length. Shintaro admits to being rather rusty with the piano, but Seijuro says it was just fine. What he wanted to say translated in the performance.

"Poets often use many words to say a simple thing," Seijuro begins, setting his violin atop the piano.

Shintaro puffs out his amusement, a small smile on his lips. He ought to continue, but that's too cliche, isn't it? _It takes thought and time and rhyme to make a poem sing_ is already at the tip of his tongue, but he tells himself not to say it. Seijuro has communicated himself well enough, and he has given more of himself than he ever could to any other person. It's only been a few weeks since they've met, but his heart is filled with song whenever Seijuro is around. Likewise, Seijuro feels free as if he's on the moon and with the stars whenever Shintaro is around.

"You're not supposed to confess that you love someone on your first date." Shintaro speaks as he covers the piano keys. He dares not look at Seijuro at this time, and he hopes and prays that his cheeks aren't as bright as Seijuro's hair.

"You're not supposed to, but you were the one who chose what to play." Seijuro agrees, shifting so he can face Shintaro." The other man freezes yet again, and Seijuro's expression turns triumphant. "This also wasn't our first date."

Shintaro decides once again that it's best not to argue. For weeks, he had been denying that the lunches they go to were dates, and for weeks, he would consider himself and Seijuro merely friends who text each other from morning until nighttime. He sighs in defeat, but the reality is that he has won as well, because he didn't have to say anything verbally for his feelings regarding the matter to be heard.

With no measures left to play, Shintaro steels himself and finally inches closer. A hand that was once on the piano cups Seijuro's chin and urges him towards him so he can finally kiss him again. Somewhere, down at the lounge where Miyu is performing, Shintaro's friends wonder if he had to go back to work because an emergency came up. It's not the case, but he wouldn't trade this fake phone call for anything in the world.

Looking back, Seijuro feels like he did the right thing by testing something and pretending he made a mistake in one of the pieces he played a few weeks ago. He found someone he enjoys being with. Their schedules may not mesh together well with Shintaro being so busy all the time at the hospital, but he doesn't mind. Shintaro understands what he needs even when he just plays the piano. Seijuro, in the same vein, understands what Shintaro wants to say even when he's just being silent.

This is nothing but a start of something new, but to Seijuro who grew up having everything given to him and fate bending over for him, the triumph of finding someone who's such a good for for him on his own has never been any greater. To Shintaro who is usually so rigid and cold, he finds so much warmth and solace from the unexpected situations Seijuro puts him in.

**Author's Note:**

> For Tay, who indulges me in all the cute things. x


End file.
